


The Surprise Party

by alynwa



Series: Picfic Tuesday Challenge [71]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: This was written as a Call & Response story with Mrua7 AKA MLaw on ff.net for a special Short Affairs challenge commemorating David McCallum's 83rd birthday.  The prompt was "Happy Birthday, Illya Kuryakin."  She wrote the first, third, and fifth chapters while I wrote the second, fourth and the sixth chapters.  We both wrote a final chapter using the 9/20/16 Picfic prompt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a Call & Response story with Mrua7 AKA MLaw on ff.net for a special Short Affairs challenge commemorating David McCallum's 83rd birthday. The prompt was "Happy Birthday, Illya Kuryakin." She wrote the first, third, and fifth chapters while I wrote the second, fourth and the sixth chapters. We both wrote a final chapter using the 9/20/16 Picfic prompt.

The phone rang on Napoleon Solo's desk at eight in the morning. Sitting opposite him at his own desk was his partner who was busy reading a sheet of updates on the international activites of T.H.R.U.S.H.  
  
"Solo here, good morning,"  
  
"Napoleon it's Tommy Lopaka," the head of Security spoke. "There's a catering delivery truck in the loading dock, where do you want them to set up for the 'you know what?"  
  
"They're early." Solo tried to sound normal. "Umm I'll be right there." He quickly hung up the phone and looked at his watch. It was seven a.m.  
  
"Who is early?" Illya's eyes peeked over the top of the paper."  
  
"Umm, Mr. Waverly's next appointment, but he's in a meeting right now. I'll escort them upstairs to a waiting room."  
  
"Why you? That is Security's job is it not?"  
  
"Oh, I just feel like stretching my legs. Want some tea from the Commissary?"  
  
"I will come with you. I could use a walk myself," Illya said.  
  
"Just stay put. I'll bring it back and a piece of danish for your birthday."  
  
"I told you no celebration Napoleon." Kuryakin sat up straight in his chair."  
  
"Will you give me a break, a danish and a cup of tea are hardly a celebration. "  
  
Napoleon strolled out the door, but once around the corner he took off at a dead run. He went straight to the Commissary, picked up the pastry and beverages but called Lopaka on the house phone.  
  
"Tom, have the caterers get everything to the gym and post haste. We don't want Illya to suspect a thing."  
  
"Sure Napoleon no problem. How are you going to get Kuryakin to the gymnasium without him suspecting anything is going on? He's pretty sneaky when it comes to sniffing things out brudda," the big Hawaiian said.  
  
"Tom, I'll figure that out with April and Mark. Thanks."


	2. Chapter 2

I was sitting in April and Mark’s office bouncing around ideas as we tried to figure out how to get my birthday – ignoring partner to the gym for his surprise party.   
  
“Maybe we’re overthinking it,” Mark said before demolishing what was left of his candy bar.  “I mean, the party’s set, everybody knows about it, The Old Man has promised that, unless the world is ending, we’re not being assigned to affairs before Wednesday.  All we ’ave to do is get Illya into the gymnasium in a few hours!  What is the big bloody deal?”  
  
“Illya is stubborn,” I answer, “Actually, I think rejecting the idea of birthday celebrations is his way of protecting himself.”  
  
“Oh, so you think he cares, but prefers to act like he doesn’t?” April asked.  
  
“Something like that,” I reply, “Remember how we literally had to chase him around the building when we wanted to take him out to dinner?*  When Glenna, Marian and some of the other support staff approached me about throwing him a party, I started to say no, but I really think a party might be _just_ what Illya needs.  He’s been wound up tight as a drum for the last few days, I have no idea why.”  
  
I watched April reapply her lipstick and check her look in the mirror and for the umpteenth time, felt a twinge of envy that such a beautiful woman found Illya attractive.  _She’s so good for him._ “Do you have an idea, April?”  
  
She smiled mysteriously and said, “Of course, Darling.  You and Illya meet Mark and me when I call.  Leave it to me.”  
  
“Okay, see you two later.”  I left their office and headed back to Illya’ and my office.  “Hey, Tovarisch, I thought you were working in the lab this morning.”   
  
“I was just about to leave; I needed to get some notes from my desk.  Just then his phone rang.  “Kuryakin.  Hi, April.  What?  I see, well, I was planning to eat at my desk…All right.  Of course.  I will.  See you later.”  He replaced the handset in its cradle.  “April wants to have lunch with us as she and Mark have to fly out to Idaho late this afternoon.”  
  
“That works for me,” I said as I shrugged and pull some reports from my IN box.  “Did she say what time?”  
  
“Between noon and twelve – thirty, she will call when they are ready.”  
  
At twelve – fifteen, the office door slid open to reveal my Russian.  “She called you?”  
  
“Yes, she and Mark are dancing in the gym in preparation for their mission and want us to critique their routine before we go to the Canteen.”  
  
I knew that everyone who was attending had been instructed to be inside no later than noon and I was hoping there weren’t any stragglers.  We got to the door and, as I knew he would, Illya opened the door to allow me to go through first.  I put my hand on the door and indicated that he go ahead of me.  
  
He stepped in and froze in his tracks when he saw everyone in the place looking at him.  
  
“Happy Birthday, Illya!” we all yelled before bursting in applause.  


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as I stepped into the gymnasium, I knew something was wrong, Illya told himself.

  


The lights were out, and I thought that odd.

  


“Surprise! Happy Birthday Illya!”

  


My heart went up into my throat. Why did he do this when I specifically asked...no told Napoleon that I did not want any birthday nonsense?

  


As I looked around at the decorations, saw all the smiling faces and smelled the aroma of food. I knew a lot of trouble had been taken to do this for me. I looked over at Napoleon who merely shrugged.

  


He handed me a shot of vodka, wishing me happy birthday.

  


“S dnem rozhdeniya, moy drug.” Solo flashed me one of his charming smiles.

  


“What could I do? Now was not the time or the place for an argument, much less a fist fight which was something I could easily start with the way I was feeling at the moment.

  


“Spasibo,” I raised my glass to him. “I will get even with you later my friend.”

  


“Moi?” Napoleon said.”This actually wasn’t my doing, but now’s not the time. You have your adoring fans who await you with good wishes and gifts.”

  


I put on my best face, nodding as people came up to me, shaking my hand, kissing me on the cheek and handing me small gift boxes...though some were not. I eyed them suspiciously, hoping they were not any of those loud ski sweaters that a few of the ladies in the secretarial pool insist upon knitting for me. There was card after card...

  


Napoleon took each from my hands one by one and placed them on a nearby table as the music began to play. At first there was wonderful Russian music being played, it was balalaikas...Kalinka!  Then came Russian gypsy music. Such memories!

  


The mirror ball, used for special celebrations at headquarters was lowered down, illuminated by spotlights of varying colors.  It filled the room with a thousand points of light as people began to dance.

April came up to me, positively glowing with exuberance and planted a kiss on my lips.

 

“Happy birthday you mad Russian...well don’t be mad at me. Everyone deserves to have a happy birthday. Now come on and dance with me?”

 

I begged off, trying to be as gracious as possible, instead choosing to head toward the buffet that had been set up. I was hungry, after all we were supposed to have been having lunch, though that was now obviously part of the ruse to get me here.

 

The food I had to admit, was enticing. Whoever had done the catering had all sorts of Russian foods here along with plenty of American ones. There was lamb-kebab Shashlik, something I had not had in very long time, as well as blini, borscht, creamed potatoes, golubtsy and so much more!

 

For a moment, being surrounded by all this Russian food made me feel a bit homesick, though home never had such plenty as this. I suddenly found myself missing people, my people and speaking my native language on a daily basis. Who was I kidding, that would never be my life again?

 

Still, no matter how acclimated I had become to living here in the United States, I was still a stranger in a strange land. Yet here I was surrounded by people who were wishing only good things for me, people who thought of themselves as my friends.  That was something I did not want to admit, except when it came to my partner.

 

I was being rude to them all and I decided it was time to fake it for their sakes, not mine.

 

I smiled.

 

“That’s more like it darling,” April came up to me just as I just stuffed a pelmeni into my mouth.

 

“Don’t try to talk, eat. Enjoy yourself. It’s your birthday.”

  
I nodded my thanks; that was the least I could do...


	4. Chapter 4

I had moved closer to speak to Mark when Illya went to look at the buffet.  I watched as Illya popped a pelmeni into his mouth and smiled briefly.  He and April moved down the table looking at the choices before both picked up plates and helping themselves to food.  
  
I clapped Mark’s shoulder in triumph.  “I think this is a success!  He told me he’s going to get me, but he’ll find out that I didn’t have anything to do with this, not at all.”  
  
“It doesn’t ‘urt either, Mate, that my partner is over there smoothing things over and that the girls in the secretarial pool insisted that authentic Russian food be served along with American favorites.  Speaking of which, let’s eat before it’s gone, eh?”  
  
When Illya and April had gotten their food and gone to find a table that was everyone else’s signal to eat.  We walked over, grabbed plates and got in line.  Marian was right in front of me and I tapped her shoulder to get her attention.  “Great idea you and Glenna had about using Boris’ Best Catering, this food looks great!  In fact, I’m going to eat the Russian stuff because no one’s lasagna is better than mine!”  
  
Marian grinned from ear to ear when I complimented her and Glenna’s idea.  “Why, thank you, Napoleon!”  She leaned in closer and when I bent down, she whispered in my ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but I broke my diet wide open by tasting everything as we set it up; it’s all good, but definitely make sure you get some beef Stroganoff, the cabbage leaves stuffed with rice and beef, the black bread and some blini and caviar.  Oh, and the soups!  Oh, who am I kidding?  Just get everything!”  
  
I had to laugh at her enthusiasm.  I turned around to tell Mark and realized I was too late.  He had two plates, one with salads and one with hot foods.  “Wow, Mark!  Leave some for someone else!”  
  
“Everyman for ‘imself, Mate!  I’m starving!”  
  
I glanced around to see that the food was indeed popular, so I piled my plate high and went in search of April and Illya.  As I expected, they were sitting at a table by the wall.  April had a glass of sbiten in her hand sipping delicately while my partner was demolishing several lamb kababs.  “Mind if Mark and I join you guys?”  Without waiting for an answer, we sat down and I have to admit: My first forkful of food was so good, I inhaled everything.  When I finally stopped to take a breath, I wiped my mouth and asked, “So, Partner Mine, what do you think of your party?”


	5. Chapter 5

I slowly leaned closer to my partner, pausing for a moment.  Should I tell him how I really feel? No now was not the right time. Perhaps tomorrow. At the moment I was enjoying the music of Django Reinhardt that was playing on the phonograph.

He was an exquisite Romani guitarist, and it was a miracle he escaped being killed by the Nazis during the war, unlike so many of my gypsy brethren.

  


“The food is wonderful, as is the music and company,” I finally answered.

  


“That’s it tovarisch?”

  


“That’s all you are going to get for the moment, and now I am going back to the buffet for more. There is also some Russian standard vodka that is calling to me.” I rose from the table and walked away before Napoleon could question me further.

  


Suddenly someone, Rob from translations began to sing the Russian birthday song.  When he was finished everyone else broke into the birthday song in English.

  


Cookie from the Commissary appeared rolling a trolley with a rather sumptuous chocolate cake on top.

  


After cutting the first slice, I handed over the knife to Glenna, who apparently baked the cake.

  


“Oh Illya!” she smiled, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

  


“Yes it is quite lovely.”

  


“Illya,” Adrienne swooped in, snuggling close to me.”Can I have the next dance? I asked for something we could do the boogaloo to. I have it on good source that you can really really shake it up on the dance floor.”

  


“Good source? Hmm, well perhaps later. I need to get something to eat, thank you.”

  


Adrienne stared at me as I walked away, making a beeline for the buffet while the others lined up for their cake.  It took me several tries to get there as Linda who handles the UNCLE newsletter grabbed hold of me.

  


She seemed to want to say something, but suddenly clammed up, but not before she giggled.

  


“It is okay Linda, we will talk later. Your Ukrainian honey cake was most delicious, thank you.”

  


Next it was Dawn, standing there in her black dress  with her blood red scarf wrapped around her lovely throat.

  


I stopped for just a moment, remembering our little Valentine role-playing rendezvous.

  


“Hello Zarya.”

  


“Hi Illyusha, I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

  


“I am trying, though you know these social situations are difficult for me.”

  


“I understand. We’ll talk later if you like.”

  


Thanking her, I finally made it to the buffet and got myself a second helping of just about everything.

  


Every mouthful of food made me think of home more and more. I remembered my mama’s pelmeni, and baba’s borscht...cabbage with sour cream.

  


Making a mental note, I reminded myself to visit Brighton Beach more often. There I could freely speak Russian, and eat in the company of Russians and Ukrainians.

  


As little as I spoke Russian, I spoke Ukrainian less and no Roma at all. English, that was it for the most part, and though I had no problem speaking it everyday I still missed speaking Russian...being Russian.

  


Still the trouble these people went to for bringing in Russian food and music said a lot...

  


Ahhh, the music was starting to ramp up a bit, but I am not going to dance. I cannot celebrate. If they only knew the real reason why.

  


Illya sat in a corner, his plate of food in front of him on the table, though he was only picking at it.  He wanted to be invisible, though it was hard given the party was for him.

  


The spot he chose was in the shadows, away from any lights. There had been a candle on the table but that was quickly extinguished.

  
I felt like I was done being sociable, for now.


	6. Chapter 6

I was watching Illya from the dance floor where I was doing what I thought was a respectable Monkey with Mandy from Translations.  I saw him politely, but firmly turn down several offers to dance, leaving several very disappointed women in his wake.  He made small talk as people approached him, but barely slowed down until he found a table at the very edge of the party.  
    
I didn’t want people to feel miffed, so I pushed the Solo Charm into maximum overdrive.  Every woman I danced with I thanked profusely on my partner’s behalf for helping to plan and/or participating in Illya’s party.  I smoothed a lot of ruffled feathers.  Yes, he _loved_ the food, of _course_ he appreciates the effort, he’s just feeling a little overwhelmed by this outpouring of affection.  I almost started to believe it myself.  Almost.  
  
Something was bothering him and it was more than just having a party thrown for him that he had said he didn’t want.  From the moment he had walked into the gym, his mood had changed.  He wasn’t angry, it was more like he was… _sad.  Tovarisch, what’s wrong?_ I thought at him.  I was willing him to look in my direction and he actually did.  I signaled him _What’s wrong?_ and he gave his head a slight shake that only I could see and averted his eyes.  I went to where April and Mark were dancing and asked, “Mind if I cut in?”  
  
Mark said, “I don’t mind.  I’ll get us some drinks, Luv.”  
  
April began to do her best Jerk when I took hold of her hands and placed one on my back and held the other and began to lead her in a sultry Salsa.  “Did Illya say anything to you about…anything?”  
  
Her red hair flipped as she shook her head _no_.  “I was actually going to ask you the same question, Darling.  He seems distracted and _dejected,_ somehow.  I almost want to cry.”  
  
“I know what you mean.  I’ve been doing my best to deflect attention from him, not an easy task since it’s _his_ party.  It’s a good thing the food and the music’s so good; some people I’m sure aren’t even focused on him.”  
  
“Napoleon Darling, I think you’re right.  Look, everyone’s grabbing leftovers to take back to their offices.  It’s a good thing this was a lunchtime event.  Mark and I have a meeting with Accounting this afternoon.  Apparently, Mark and I have to explain why we ruined two cars and three hotel rooms during our last affair.  Are you going to ask Illya about his mood?”  
  
“Of course, I am,” I answered before I kissed her cheek and released her.  “Good luck with Accounting.”  I watched her rejoin her partner before they exited the gym.  Others were leaving too and I watched as people made a point of stopping first to wish Illya well.  I waited until only the janitorial staff was left cleaning before I approached him.  “Illya?  Are you heading back to the lab?”  
  
He nodded and then seemed to decide a verbal answer was better.  “Yes.  I will probably be there the rest of the day.”  
  
“I thought so.  Listen.  Dinner.  My place.  Seven sharp.”  I held up my right index finger when he opened his mouth.  “I’m not accepting ‘no’ for an answer.”  To his credit, he shrugged and left.  I knew he’d come.  “Hey!” I yelled at the cleaners, “I’m taking one of those honey cakes!  Don’t you dare cut it!” 


	7. Chapter 7

I left work at five – thirty so I’d have time to prepare dinner.   I stopped at D’Agostino’s and bought two large rib eyes to go along with the mashed potatoes and spinach I had already made.  When I got home, I seasoned the meat and left it out to come to room temperature while I changed and pondered what to say to my partner.

 _He looked like he was at a funeral instead of a birthday party though he did make an effort to appear friendly and appreciative, I could tell he was unhappy._ I hung up my suit, tossed my shirt in with the dirty clothes and headed back in the kitchen.  I was so involved in what I was doing and thinking that when I heard Illya’s coded knock, I startled and checked my watch, certain the Russian was early.  He wasn’t.

“Hi, come on in.  I just have to broil the meat and we can eat.  Have some wine.”  I went back to what I was doing, but kept an eye on Illya who had wordlessly poured a glass of wine and sat at the kitchen counter.  “You want your steak medium rare or rare?”

Twenty minutes later, we sat down to eat.  Slowly, he began to come out of his shell, even smiling at a joke I make at Mark Slate’s expense.  I had decided that we would just relax over dinner and talk turkey over after dinner drinks.

After the meal, I cleared the table, pulled vodka and ice from the freezer while Illya grabbed glasses from the cabinet and we headed for the living room where he took up residence on his favorite recliner and I settled on the couch.  We poured and sipped our drinks for a few moments before I finally looked over the top of my drink at him.  “Illya,” I called softly.  When he raised his eyes to return my gaze I said, “What is going on with you?  I know you didn’t really want a party and maybe I should have said ‘no’ when Marian and Glenna approached me to ask if they could have a birthday luncheon for you, but they really like you and they really wanted to do it to show you how well – liked and respected you are.”

“I know.  I spoke to both of them afterwards to thank them for their kindness.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  I have to tell you, I was tap dancing like a fiend covering for you with so many people.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t want your thanks, Illya.  I’m your partner and I’ll back you no matter what, but what I _need_ from you is an explanation for your behavior.  I felt like, like you were being _hurt_ in some way.”  I watched as Illya took a long drink of his vodka and refilled the glass.  “I’m waiting.”

“Remember when I told you about my sister, Fekla?*  I told you about how she died protecting me?”

“Yes.”

“She was murdered in front of me on August thirty – first.  I was numb.  When my birthday came three weeks later, I ignored it.  It was an easy thing to do; my entire family was dead less than four months, with my last living relative dying because I was hungry.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Tovarisch.”

“The little boy I used to be believes it is my fault, regardless of what the man I am thinks.  Every year, that little boy does not want to acknowledge his birthday.  The food today, I know this will sound paradoxical, but the food, though absolutely delicious, saddened me because it reminded me of everything and everyone I lost the year I turned seven.  My mother and my _babushka_ used to make many of those dishes that were on the table.  Some were made for special occasions.”

“Like birthdays.”

“Like birthdays.  Not too long after she died, I was selected to go to the government school.  No one had a birthday celebration, no one cared.  No one ever cared about my birthday again until I came to UNCLE North America and I met an arrogant, ridiculous Mother Hen of an American who insists on marking it.”

I smiled at his description of me.  There was no venom in his voice when he said it and I knew he didn’t mean it.  “I was perfectly content to treat you to dinner, maybe have April and Mark join us and call it a day.  Illya, the staff _likes_ you and they wanted to show it.  I’m so sorry about Fekla and the rest of your family and I wish like hell that had never happened to you.  However, let people _do_ for you sometimes!  I know we’re just a bunch of sentimental Americans, but we are who we are.  Deal with it.”

He smiled.  “All right, Napoleon,” huffed out with an exasperated sounding sigh, “You win.  I will try to enjoy next year’s birthday.  But do _not_ expect miracles.”

“Fine.  Let’s shake on it.”  I walked to him and extended my hand.  When he raised his arm, I pushed his hand away.  “No, stand up and shake my hand face to face.”

“ _Bozhe moy!_ ” he exclaimed, “You are never satisfied!” but he stood.

When he again extended his hand, I grabbed it and pulled him into a bear hug.  “Happy birthday, Illya” I said before kissing his cheek and releasing him.  “ _Now_ I’m satisfied!”

“Sentimental blockhead,” he muttered as he wiped his cheek, but he was really smiling, the first true smile I had seen all day.

Yeah, I was finally satisfied.

 

*ref. my tale, “The Letter.”  

     


End file.
